The Inspiration of Insurrection
by Arcindium
Summary: Sirius Black died with the Potters on Halloween Eve in 1981. Pettigrew never ran, and Voldemort hasn't returned. But Wizengamot elections are bringing to light the same tensions that drove Voldemort's rise to power. As Harry, in his fifth year, befriends individuals deeply affected by the first war, he begins to apprehend the true instability of the wizarding world.


Harry grew increasingly excited over the course of the next Monday as his evening lesson with Fillion approached. He had turned in his Defense homework that morning, and, waiting as Ron struggled to produce a stunner strong enough to knock him out, he had noticed Fillion reading it. The professor, looking pleased, had given Harry a small nod as he packed up to head to lunch, and Harry had felt a tinge of pleasure.

After lunch and the subsequent free period, Harry walked down to Potions with Hermione. (Ron, having overstuffed himself with lasagna, had run toward the bathroom holding his stomach and not since reappeared.) Distracted by thoughts of the upcoming Defense lesson, it was with a start that Harry noticed Lucius Malfoy exiting from McGonagall's office. He froze for a moment and reflexively reached for his wand, worried the man had been snooping, but realized that McGonagall herself was showing Malfoy out. Harry watched, eyes narrowed, as Malfoy climbed the staircase in the direction of the Charms classroom and out of sight.

"What is _he_ doing here?" he asked Hermione.

"I think it might have something to do with that Hogwarts Reform Act Malfoy's been getting behind," Hermione said in a subdued tone. "From what I can tell, he's becoming _the_ public face of the bill. It's really sad, because it has a lot of good stuff in it, and Malfoy's reputation could tarnish it."

"You know, couldn't that be his plan?" Harry asked as they began descending to the lower levels of Hogwarts. "Killing the bill by pretending to support it?"

Hermione tilted her head, considering the proposition, before shaking it. "He's spent a lot of political capital – and actual money, too – supporting this bill. He can't afford a gambit like that, especially when running for election."

Harry walked for a few moments in silence, trying to figure out Malfoy's angle, but, as they approached the Potions classroom, his thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable whinny voice of the younger Malfoy.

"I'm going to wipe that barmy smile off his fat face the next time calls Bone's stunner _delightful_." (The last word was said in a bad high-pitched imitation of Fillion.) "It's pathetic, you'd think a Defense teacher would have some self-respect."

Goyle grunted. Malfoy, apparently taking this as agreement, continued his rant. It appeared Slytherins had Defense just before Potions, a period Harry had free.

They stopped a moderate distance away from the cluster of students around the Potions entrance, hoping to avoid Malfoy's notice until Snape unlocked the door. Ron, looking slightly queasy, arrived several minutes later. He listened to Malfoy for a moment and grinned at Harry.

Half an hour later Ron's good mood had thoroughly evaporated. They were struggling to make a finicky concoction called the Draught of Peace, and half of Ron's potion had just inexplicably vanished, much to his frustration.

"Second week of classes and we're already making OWL level potions," Ron said bitterly in an undertone. He glanced across the room, where Snape was roaming among the Slytherins. "Malfoy's barely even paying attention to his cauldron and he'll probably get full marks."

Indeed, Malfoy had restarted his tirade against Fillion in a whisper, gesturing wildly with his cutting knife while his potion simmered in front of him. He hadn't noticed the ominous purple sparks the mixture was giving off.

Snape stopped suddenly beside Malfoy's table. "Draco, pay attention to your cauldron," he said harshly. "And _don't_ let me hear you speaking that way about a Hogwarts professor."

"Professor, why do you keep defending that traitorous clown?" Malfoy asked loudly, throwing down his knife.

Snape's eyes flicked toward the Gryffindors. "This is neither the time nor place to discuss this," he said curtly.

"Considering you've stopped visiting the Common Room _and_ you seem to spend all your time shut up with whatever you're working on, there doesn't seem to be any other options… _sir_." Malfoy's voiced walked the line between forcefulness and insolence.

Snape's eyes roved over the other Slytherins, as if gauging Malfoy's support. With a faint grimace, he softly said, "I, like _every_ upstanding member of the wizarding community, am…appreciative of Professor Fillion's role in revealing those Death Eaters hidden among us after the war."

Was Harry imagining things, or did Snape just give Malfoy a pointed look?

Snape continued, "However, Sherem Fillion earned my respect long before he switched sides, and still deserves it to this day." He stared down at Malfoy, who looked deeply skeptical. "You would be wise not to underestimate him."

Snape turned and glared at the Gryffindors, who, like the Slytherins, had stopped working to watch. "You have exactly twenty seven minutes left to complete your Draught of Peace, and I assure you, I am being far more generous than your OWL examiners. Keep working."

The quiet sounds of chopping knives and sizzling cauldrons quickly filled the classrooms as the students returned to their potions. Harry, barely paying attention to the powered moonstones he was pouring, struggled to fit this new information into his image of Fillion. The professor had apparently been a Death Eater, yet he had turned at the end of the war, revealing names of other supporters. Harry supposed this explained much of the hate Fillion received from Slytherin house, but hadn't Karkaroff done the same? Harry didn't remember any Slytherin publicly expressing anger at the foreign headmaster.

This also didn't explain Snape's friendliness with Fillion, nor McGonagall's extreme mistrust of him. And _Dumbledore_ clearly trusted him enough to teach. None of it made any sense.

 _Well, one thing's certain_ , Harry thought as he set his cauldron to simmer. _The class tonight should definitely be interesting._

* * *

Harry ate dinner quickly that evening in the hopes of arriving early to Professor Fillion's lesson. Most unfortunately, Peeves noticed. Only after the poltergeist had "Got your conk!" for the third time did Harry managed to find a combination of threats and spells that persuaded him to target someone else, but the damage was done, and he was running several minutes late.

Harry sprinted down the Defense corridor, rehearsing his apology to Professor Fillion in his head. Pausing in front of the classroom entrance, he struggled to catch his breath.

A female voice could be heard coming through the slightly open door. "You do see that Mr. Lennart is up to something. His position's too risky, especially with that Muggleborn attacking him, and he hasn't been responding. Last election he was fully on the offensive–remember Mr. Evanoble? He had to get a divorce after Mr. Lennart got that article published in the Prophet, and he lost half his clients."

Harry, realizing he was only making himself tardier by stopping to eavesdrop, pulled the door open. Inside, Professor Fillion was sitting at his desk and saying, "I agree with you, my dear girl, but do you truly expect me to do something about it?"

Daphne Greengrass lounged in front of him, her feet up on a desk and clearly about to reply when her eyes flicked to Harry. She hastily stood, straightening her robes. "Mr. Potter," she said coolly.

"Daphne," Harry said, hiding his surprise. He looked at Fillion, "I'm sorry I'm late, sir, Peeves held me up."

Fillion smiled at him. "No problem at all, Mr. Potter. Daphne and I were just having a wonderful conversation while we waited for you."

Daphne glanced over her shoulder at Fillion. "Mr. Potter will be attending this class as well?"

"Naturally. Surely you don't expect to learn to defend yourself without someone well-matched to practice against?"

Daphne's face tightened, her lips pulling into a thin line. She pulled out her wand, and Harry quickly mirrored her, worried she would attack him, but instead she made several motions around herself and tucked her wand away again. She turned to Fillion and began speaking, breathing quickly and clearly angry, but Harry could hear nothing, and he realized she had cast a spell to ensure her privacy.

It felt uncomfortably intrusive to watch Daphne's outburst. Her face and hands were steady and controlled as she argued, but Harry noticed hints of emotion – clenched muscles, a tremor in a hand, and an unnatural stiffness. He lowered his eyes, but not before glimpsing the look of resignation on Fillion's face, as though he had anticipated Daphne's anger. They clearly had a closer relationship than Harry would have expected.

Harry considered his own feelings. He had imagined one-on-one lessons with the professor, but perhaps it would be better to have someone at his own skill level to practice against. Training with Moody the previous year had been rather disheartening – the old Auror didn't believe in restricting himself when dueling against a beginner, and Harry had never come anywhere near winning a match. Considering Fillion's display of magical prowess a few nights previous, any duel with him would likely be equally as imbalanced.

He wondered what Daphne had done to interest Fillion. He was certain she hadn't received lessons from Moody like he had, but, never having had a Defense class with her, he had no idea of her talent. Did she pose a danger to him? She _was_ a Slytherin, after all, and though he'd never seen her anywhere near Malfoy's posse, it was possible she had relatives who would very much like to see him dead for defeating their master. He couldn't recall hearing of any particularly notorious Greengrasses, however. He decided not to judge her just yet.

Harry looked up to see Daphne glancing back at him. She quickly cancelled the privacy spells and regained her normal appearance of imperturbability, but to Harry's eyes she still looked tense.

"Now then," Fillion said as though nothing had happened, "I was reading your homework, Harry, and I was pleased with the fighting style you developed, so I thought I could teach you a little spell I believe would make a fine addition to it. Daphne's system," he looked at Daphne, who staring at him with narrowed eyes, "which she would prefer not to discuss, would also benefit."

"The spell is _Praevid_. It gives warning when a spell is cast against you." He twisted his wand and spoke the incantation, creating a faint amber bubble around himself that faded into invisibility as it expanded. "Why don't you two try?"

Harry moved to the front of the classroom and did his best to copy Fillion's wand movements. He felt a rush of pleasure when he produced a passable spell. To his left, Daphne had smoothly done the same.

"Absolutely wonderful!" Fillion said happily, bouncing slightly. "I doubt there's more than a handful of students here who could pick up a spell like this on the first try. Now, _Praevid_ is most useful when used to forewarn against surprise attacks. So, for our first class, the two of you will practice perpetrating and parrying sneak attacks!" Fillion waved his wand, forcing the desks to either side of the room. "Mr. Potter, go over there if you please." He indicated the center of the room.

Harry fiddled with his wand anxiously as he followed Fillion's instructions.

"I've heard of stinging hexes being used for this sort of exercise, but I'd prefer you both use the _Plip_ spell. When it hits you, it feels like … well, if feels like you've been hit by a rather fast ping-pong ball." He demonstrated it in the direction of the wall, producing a loud pop.

He looked at Harry. "Are you familiar with ping-pong? It's a delightful game my wife introduced me to…" Harry quickly nodded, stifling a laugh as he remembered the Voldemortish version of Fillion he had imagined. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought her saw Daphne role her eyes, but when he looked at her she was as politely attentive as ever.

"Harry, I'm going to blindfold you now, okay?" Harry nodded, removing his glasses. Fillion raised he wand and said, " _Obscuro_ ," conjuring a black cloth wrapped around Harry's head.

"In a minute I will silence the room, and Daphne will start casting the _Plip_ spell at you. See how well you can use _Praevid_ to defend yourself. Good Luck!"

"Should I use a shield charm, sir, or something else?"

"Oh, I'm sure you can figure that out," Fillion said, sounding amused.

Harry cast _Praevid_ and felt his senses expand, compensating for his lack of vision. He waited nervously on the balls of his feet, counting seconds. At sixty seconds he started expecting an attack. At two hundred, he began to wonder what was happening. He felt an urge to take off his blindfold. At two hundred and thirty two he finally sensed an incoming spell – from behind him. He spun and tried to shield but only spoke a single syllable before something bounced off his forehead.

He started to slowly rotate in place, tense, expecting a follow up. When it wasn't forthcoming, he began to count again.

A spell shot from the side. Harry turned and shielded, but too slowly. Fortunately, his motion had moved him out of the way, the ball passing inches to the right of his shoulder. Evasion appeared to be a better strategy than shielding.

Harry successfully dodged the next three attacks, but he couldn't avoid the three spells that made up the fourth. He spun away from the center one and straight into the one on the left, which impacted with a pop on his shoulder. Daphne capitalized on his weak footing, casting a barrage of illusory ping-pong balls that he barely managed to shield against.

Ten seconds later a similar bombardment came from the opposite direction, but Harry was ready. He leaped four feet to his right and cast a Disarmer and Summoning spell at Daphne in quick succession, ignoring an errant ball bouncing off his hand. To his surprise, _Praevid_ allowed him to sense a wand hurtling toward him, and he managed to catch it.

He pulled off his blindfold to see Daphne striding toward him. She grabbed her wand and walked to the front of the room. Behind her he could see Fillion looking on from behind his desk, the corners of his mouth inexplicably twitching upward.

"Why don't we sit down and discuss your tactics." Fillion said. Harry took a seat at a desk and the front of the room, Daphne to his left.

"Mr. Potter, you adjusted to the situation with impressive speed, but did you notice the error you made at the end?"

Harry shook his head.

"You ignored one of my spells before you cast _Expelliarmus_ ," Daphne said immediately. "If I'd been using anything other than a training spell I would have defeated you easily."

"That may be true," Fillion said, glancing at Daphne with an odd half-smile and raising a finger, "but you, Mr. Potter, were only acting within the parameters of a training I set out. While such an action would have been a lapse in judgement under a real attack, I find it commendable that you managed to pull it off the disarmer today." He looked at Daphne and continued, "I did give you a rather substantial advantage. You can hardly complain that the competition was unfair when Mr. Potter disarmed you on his first try."

"I wasn't complaining," Daphne said, perfectly composed. "I was simply pointing out a mistake."

"You were too still, you know," Harry said, trying to turn the tables, "I shouldn't have been able to get you so easily."

Daphne nodded slightly.

"Well," Fillion said, looking between the two of them, "That about covers what I have to say. You ready to take a turn Daphne?"

"Yes."

While Fillion blindfolded her, Harry practiced _Plip_ against a wall and considered his options. Daphne had left large gaps between her attacks and would be expecting the same from him. Could he take advantage of that…

He started circling Daphne, getting a feel for the motion. He waited a full minute before firing a spell at her from behind, as she had done. She dodged easily and responded immediately with a Disarming Spell, which would have ended the contest had Harry not kept in motion.

He spaced his next few attacks liberally, and Daphne had little trouble avoiding them. She retaliated with impressive speed, forcing him into the position of dodging.

He started firing spells in rapid succession. Daphne shielded effectively against the first three, but not against the two from behind he had reflected off the ceiling and walls. She spun to defend herself, and Harry grabbed the opportunity, sending a barrage of spells toward her back.

In a display of frantic agility she managed to dodge all but one. That one Harry had inadvertently aimed at her bottom. Harry froze, a visceral sense of chivalry demanding he apologize.

His wand flew out of his hands. Daphne had apparently anticipated his response and taken advantage of it, casting a Disarmer as he hesitated. He hadn't heard her say the incantation. Could she do it silently?

She was taking off the blindfold, and he went to retrieve his wand. "Sorry," he said awkwardly, "I didn't mean to hit you…err…there."

After a moment, Daphne let out a brief snort, her lips pressed together as though suppressing a smile. "I can hardly take offense when I was the one criticizing you for not treating this like a real attack. You really shouldn't have stopped moving, though, it was rather predictable."

"Did you do _Expelliarmus_ silently? I didn't hear an incantation"

"Yes."

"When did you learn _that_?" Harry said, slightly awed. He hadn't even realized that students could manage to do nonverbal spells, only ever having seen them from adults.

"Cedric Diggory was doing spells nonverbally during the first task. I thought it'd be a useful thing to know."

"Wonderful job!" Fillion said enthusiastically as he walked from around his desk, distracting them. "You both clearly understand how important it is to know your opponent, even when using a limited selection of spells." He paused and tilted his head slightly. "You know," he said, chortling, "I was going to use these with my first-years, but I think you deserve a reward." He reached into a container on his desk a pulled out two wrapped item that he threw at the Daphne and Harry. "Flavars. They're a candy I brought back from Australia."

Harry stared at the candy. An image floated up from his memory of his third grade teacher insisting, "Never take candy from strangers!" He shook his head, unwrapped the candy, and popped it in his mouth. To his surprise, it tasted entirely Muggle, devoid of the unusual flavors witches and wizards seemed to be fond of. Glancing at Daphne, he noticed she was pointing her wand at the candy in her hand. It suddenly disappeared. Fillion's eyes flicked in her direction, but he pretended not to notice.

"Why don't we do a few more rounds?" Fillion said.

Over the next hour Daphne and Harry periodically switched roles, with Fillion watching from the sidelines and calling out suggestions. It quickly became apparent that, though neither were particularly experienced at this sort of magical competition, they each had strengths which would have proved nearly unbeatable against almost anyone else. Harry's reflexes and intuition often allowed him to take advantage of tiny opportunities and anticipate incoming spells as if by magic. Daphne, on the other hand, would carefully concoct intricate ploys that forced Harry to constantly look out for unexpected surprises.

When Harry pulled off the blindfold for the final time, he noticed Daphne's eyes on him. She was a hard person to read, but he got the sense that she was reevaluating her impression of him. Fillion prediction that they would be well matched had proven correct, and Harry could sense Daphne's surprise.

"Wonderful job!" Fillion said enthusiastically as he stood. "That's enough for today, I think; I must be getting home, but you two should both be very proud of yourselves. Why don't we meet same time next week, and it would be excellent if you both worked to find new spells that fit your style before our next lesson."

Fillion looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know," he said, "it's not exactly fair that you have double the defense homework of a normal student." He looked at Harry with a mischievous expression on his face. "If you're confident you know the normal fifth-year material…well, I'm sure there's no need for you to prove that to me." He winked.

Harry smiled at him. "I understand, sir. Is that all today?"

"That is all! I look forward to our next lesson." He pulled out a pocket watch and glanced at it. "Oh dear, Carol's going to kill me. Goodbye!" He grabbed his bag and hurried out of the room.

Harry stowed away his wand, picked up his bag, and made to follow Fillion. Daphne's voice called him back. "Mr. Potter!"

Harry looked back. Daphne was standing stiffly and with hands clasped in front of her.

"May I please talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure…" Harry said, nonplussed.

Daphne stepped around him, glanced through the open door, and shut it firmly before turning to face him. "If it is acceptable to you, I would appreciate if you would keep my participation in these classes to yourself."

Harry studied her face, and she stared back inscrutably. "I guess that isn't a problem. But why?"

Daphne hesitated, and Harry expected her to give a non-answer, but to his surprise she said, "It could…jeopardize my status in Slytherin were it known I was having private lessons with a Gryffindor."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Why would you be friends with people who treat you like that?" Harry said, confused, "There are people in other Houses who don't act that way."

Daphne gave him a small nod. "I suppose so, but that doesn't help."

"Why not?"

Daphne fell silent, gazing through the classroom windows at the still faintly illuminated grounds. Seconds later, she said, "There was first-year Slytherin who used to think that way."

She locked eyes with Harry. "She made a friend in Ravenclaw. Days later, she was jinxed fairly badly by his older brother while her supposed friend laughed uproariously."

"Who was this girl?" Harry said, horrified. "She should have gone to a professor!"

Daphne shook her head slightly. "It would be one word against the other, with the potential for retribution. It's never worth it. The worst part was that when she came back, the older girls fixed her up immediately. No questions asked. They knew what had happened."

Harry looked at her, eyes wide. "I can't imagine what it's like to live here knowing that sort of stuff happens."

"It's not so bad, really," Daphne said. "Just have to be…Do you hear that?"

After a moment Harry nodded. He could make out faint voices from the other side of the classroom door.

Daphne stood still, eyes unfocused. "Did he just say powdered dragonscale?" she said softly.

"Maybe? Why?"

Daphne crept silently toward the door and spent several seconds listening before whispering, "You know any ways we could hear them better?"

"I do, actually," Harry said, surprised he knew a helpful spell for once. "The book said it wouldn't work too well around a lot of ambient magic though. May as well try, I suppose." He pointed his wand toward the door and cast the sound-focusing spell he'd learned that weekend. "You might have to come a bit closer over hear, though. This focuses sound, but only to a small area."

Daphne did so, and they both fell silent.

"Look, man," a male voice said, barely audible, "I don't have that sort of relationship with my father! He wouldn't even send _me_ restricted potions ingredients, let alone someone else."

"Really?" a higher male voice said, "Your father not trust you enough?"

"It's not like that! He could get in trouble with the _Ministry_ for doing something like this."

"I'm sure that's what he tells you. Well then, you're no help. Bye."

Harry heard footsteps, and he hurried forward to crack open the door. He could see one figure toward the other end of the corridor standing still, while the other strode around a corner, but both were too far away to make out clearly.

"Damn," he said quietly, "couldn't see who they were."

"It wouldn't be helpful, anyway." Daphne whispered. "Couldn't do anything with it without concrete evidence."

"You'd go to a teacher with evidence?" Harry asked, surprised. It didn't seem like Daphne's style.

"I didn't say that."

Harry stared at her. "Okay. Not gonna ask. You know, Muggles have ways of recording stuff like this."

"I'm sure there's a magical way to do that. I should look into it."

"Probably would be a good thing to know." Harry returned his voice to a normal volume now that the second figure had left the area. "You never did tell me what dragonscale was for."

"Explosives."

"…Well, that's concerning."

Daphne shrugged and picked up her bag. "We should probably be going. You'll keep my participation in these lessons in confidence?"

"Yes, of course," Harry said instantly.

"Thank you, Harry."


End file.
